LITTLE DAWN WIND

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 303, 14 March 1928, Page 6

LITTLE DAWN WIND

Across the dark wigwam there is a great white milky patch of moonligl&t spilt. All is silent in the camping* ground, and inside, the wigwams chiefs and braves are asleep. Curled up in the corner is a little dark-eyed Indian baby, lulled to sleep by the croon-song of the trees beyond the wigwam. The moon goes behind a long white cloud, and the shadows creep around the camp, enfolding the little wigwams in the darkness.

The little dark-eyed one is not afraid of this darkness —she is the child of day and night, and of sunshine and shadow. And to one within the far wigwam the shadows are a blessing from the merciful gods. . . . The long white cloud still hides the moon and still the braves sleep on, forgetful of the brown-eyed babe in the corner. But what of her? The night-wind is crooning her to sleep with the echoes of her mother’s lullaby. A slim dark form of an Indian girl creeps out from the wigwam. Her long dark plaits hang down the front of her ruddy-brown dress. With one arm outstretched, she feels her way between the birch trees and then she finds the track and walks slowly down to the lake. And still the moon is under the long white cloud. And the little brown babe is blinking her lazy eyes. The trees rustle, and down by the lake the water laps peacefully on the shore. And the Indian maiden is waiting still, down by the gently lapping water. Then she hears the distant splash of a paddle far across the lake, and a faint flush comes to her brown cheeks. Little Dawn Wind knows who is corning toward her in the wonderful darkness. Nearer the canoe comes and nearer, and the brown face and arms of a handsome boy are seen in the canoe, coming across the great dark water. There is scarcely a sound as the canoe is beached and hidden under a tree, and then the boy and the maiden are lost among the birch trees. The night-wind blows a little gentler, the long white cloud seems almost still and the water laps more peacefully on the shore. . . . Minnehaha has found her Hiawatha. . . . • * * The gold edge of the moon is appearing from behind the cloud, and the brown-eyed one is fast asleep. Little Dawn Wind and the boy are passing the wigwam. Then, breaking the deep silence of the night, a child’s cry comes from the wigwam, apd is followed by another. It is a cry of fear. . . . From the wigwam two chiefs step out quickly, and one leaps forward and takes hold of the boy’s arms, and he meets the chief’s gaze unflinchingly. The boy is face to face with the chief of his enemy’s tribe. * * m A little dawn wind was blowing across the lake, and rustling the birches by the wigwam. Down by the shore, a dark huddled figure of a girl was crouched, and sobbing. . . . And there in the wigwam was a little brown child, and two great tears were in her brown eyes. The brown eyes of Dawn Wind, and of the babe were sad for ever. . . . Minnehaha would never forget her Hiawatha. He had gone to the Happy Hunting Ground. Far across the lake, when the moon is hiding behind a cloud, and the birch trees rustle together, his voice calls o’er the water . . . echoing . . . and only the dawn wind answers in the morning. —Little Lone Pine. When the voices of children are heard on the green. And laughing is heard on the hill. My heart is at rest within my breast And everything else is still. —William Blake.

you at the splendid news, and am doubly pleased as Star-on-the-River, a Wigwam Brave, helped you in your success. Well done! I have delivered your message to Red Star. Perhaps if you give me a ring before you come down the trail to the Wigwam other t than on a Thursday, it would be more satisfactory. I am glad you are still *io faithful to the page. Redfeather freq uently agrees with you in your wish tXiat it was a “whole” instead of a ha lf, but “Better a half loaf than none at all.” Many thinks for your cheery letter, and do not forget our powwotp. Sighing Wind: I was delighted to hear* the voice of Sighing Wind again, and to receive the story and sketches. I am holding them in the meantime. Molly 3 *’' drawing was very well done conside ring her tender age. Has the financial position improved at all yet? Even temporary afflictions of this nature be well dispensed with. Redfeather awaits another arrow from you very .soon. Waving Plume: Greetings and wel-